Gone Forever
by Mii-Chan 24
Summary: The makings of an Akuma, from the beginning. For Jacky.


**Gone Forever**

**By Amaya 24**

**Disclaimer: -Man is not mine.**

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When someone goes through the loss of a loved one, they go through certain phases in the grief process.

The first step is shock. A numb, dream-like feeling that permeates every surface, making everything seem unreal, shrouding everything in a foggy haze that dulls the senses and hinders thought.

It is at this time that they wonder how this could have been allowed to happen. They realize they will never see that person again, never to come across them on the street, never to speak with them or see them smile. The detachment weakens from there, becoming a dull, throbbing ache that leads to the next level.

Second, sensations return, and grief appears. Like a sledgehammer, it crashes through their system, driving away any coherent and logical thought as the full weight of the situation takes hold.

Grieving becomes an entire set of challenges, preventing reason from stepping foot in their territory. The pain in their chest increases as unwanted thoughts fill their brains, and so the ache grows, festering viciously like a living, conscious thing. Tears run abundant in this stage, and a severe depression can lead to unwanted thoughts.

Guilt tends to follow grief, tormenting the living with thoughts of _what if_.

This pushes the mind to believe that if certain steps had been taken, tragedy could have been avoided, sometimes to the point of delusion. Reason, however, was long ago removed from the equation, replaced by horrid rashness that will undoubtedly lead to untimely demise.

The guilt swells as time passes, and the incoherent mind of the survivors creates impossible circumstances that leads to more pain and suffering.

The guilt never lasts for long, of course. Sooner or later, other, more powerful feelings take control. One of the most common is hate.

Hate burns in their chest, infusing every thought and sentiment with the emotion until everything else becomes obsolete. It is like a hand clenched around their heart, smothering it slowly, bit by bit, until it stills, becoming a hard, stone structure keeping a mindless body alive.

The hate expands, and they begin to hate themselves for not being strong enough, for not being there, for not being omnipotent.

They hate the loved ones gone for leaving them, for succumbing to the other side, for making them mourn their departure in the first place.

And lastly, they begin to hate God himself, for taking away the people they cared about the most before their time.

It is at this critical stage that _He _appears, summoned by the darkness that dwells in every human heart.

He takes advantage of the lunacy, of the sheer lack of common sense, and materializes before them, a large smile on his clownish face.

'Would you like me to bring back your loved one?' He coos at the desolate, and the sheer desperation in their being lets them ignore basic instincts and warnings. _How did He get in? How does He know? Who is He?_

They see no wrong in wanting to give life to those unjustly removed from this world, and trust the kindly-looking man beyond comprehension, turning a blind eye to rationality.

Their anguish feeds their recklessness, and they agree to his terms without reading the fine print, signing away their soul for the chance to see their loved ones once more, to get a chance to say goodbye.

The smile widens, and they fail to sense the malice in the air, the dark, vile glow in His eyes as He materializes a black skeleton.

'All you have to do is call their name out and your love will return from that despicable God,' He assures them, and they feel hope -- feverish, wild hope -- blossom in the empty cavity in their chest.

Disregarding every warning sign, they scream to the heavens, and watch as the souls of the departed are forced into the grotesque new body.

It moves, and their heart swells, hundreds of scenarios flashing before their eyes, images of love and companionship forevermore. They do not stop to realize that the Maker has a different agenda. People do not get something for nothing, and this is what they fail to comprehend.

As much as they wish otherwise, the dead are gone forever. They need to _stay_ dead, despite the pain, and the living need to continue living. To tamper with the flow of life is taboo, and the outcome is disastrous.

He smiles in satisfaction as his newest demon is created, watching as faith fades to terror when sanity returns. He knows that they know something is wrong, but is not worried by it. By the time this step has been taken, it is too late to turn back.

'I command you to take over this person's body!' He instructs, and disappears in a gas of noxious purple smoke, malicious glee shining in His unnatural eyes.

The skeleton, and the soul within, can do nothing but watch and obey, weeping in pain as they destroy the person that was willing to risk so much to see them again, howling furiously at the heavens, demanding why they could not be stronger.

An akuma is born from a human's sorrow. It is a mistake many make, thinking that they can be exempt from a rule created millennium ago, before humankind was nothing but primitive single-celled organisms striving in the world they would later destroy.

Despite everything humankind has seen, they never seem to learn the lesson. They know that the dead should not be brought back to life, but they do so anyways.

That makes their war pointless. Because no matter how many akumas the exorcists defeat, there will always be grieving humans. And as long as there are grieving humans, there will be darkness, gnawing at the light in human hearts until there is nothing left but hopelessness and despair. And the cycle will continue, until the end of times.

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**The makings of an akuma, from the beginning, outlining the stages of grief. **

**For Jacky, in memory of Kevin. **


End file.
